


"From Depths of Hell Thy People Save"

by farad



Series: Christmas Carols [7]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 26, afternoon</p>
            </blockquote>





	"From Depths of Hell Thy People Save"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [istia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/gifts), [Mendax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendax/gifts), [JoJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/gifts), [randi2204](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/gifts).



> Set the Christmas after "Obsession"; thanks to Huntersglenn for the beta. Thanks also to Zeke Black and her awesome Magnificent Seven Handbook, with transcripts, pictures of the clothes the boys wore, and every thing else, and the people at Daybook for their quick answers to my specific detail needs! All mistakes my very own.

_**"O come, O come, Emmanuel** _

_**And ransom captive Israel** _

_**That mourns in lonely exile here** _

_**Until the Son of God appear** _

_**Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel** _

_**Shall come to thee, O Israel.** _

_**O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free** _

_**Thine own from Satan's tyranny** _

_**From depths of Hell Thy people save** _

_**And give them victory o'er the grave** _

_**Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel** _

_**Shall come to thee, O Israel."** _

 

– from "O Come O Come Emmanuel ", verse one;

carol was originally written in Latin text in the 12th Century

 

 

When he'd left town, Ezra had been determined that he was going to Chris' shack. It was the day after Christmas, which meant that Christmas was over. Ended. Nothing else for Chris to worry on. He should be past his grief and the memories of Christmas' past, the ghosts should all have come and gone and Chris could now be ready to move forward. The day itself was beautiful – cold, wickedly cold, but the rains of Christmas Eve were over and by noon, the ice was all melted away.

 

It was almost the new year, and lord how they needed one. This past year had been a trial of survival itself, what with the Nichols vendetta against Hank Connelly and eventually the seven of them, Maddy Stokes' attempt to kill JD, which had almost succeeded, the loss of Nathan's father just after he and Nathan had found each other again, the serial killer who had almost managed to hang Josiah, the assassin who had almost killed Mary, and then the worst of it: Ella Gaines and her attempt to kill them all, which had almost killed Chris.

 

Since that dreadful day in March, Chris had survived and he'd even healed, physically, but the emotional destruction was ongoing. Not just to Chris, who was driven to find the woman, to make her pay for what she had done to him, but to the rest of them as well. All of them had taken active roles in trying to find her, while at the same time trying to keep Chris from getting himself killed by some other means. His temper, which was so near the surface, seemed to go off at any interruption in his quest to get his hands around Ella Gaines' throat.

 

Ezra slowed his pace the closer he got to Chris 'shack in the hills'. All the resolution from earlier seemed to be seeping away, obstructed by the doubts he had been feeling for the past several months. He knew he wasn't alone in his doubts. As he'd watched Vin ride out of town on Christmas Eve, he'd wondered if they would see him again. Of them all, Vin was the one who seemed least attached to the town and more attached to Chris. But that relationship had seen a lot of strain – well, that wasn't right. Chris' relationship with all six of the men he rode with was strained.

 

But Vin seemed to be the one who bore the brunt of Chris' frustration because he couldn't track Ella Gaines. Because he hadn't hit her that morning in March, when Chris, himself, had pulled his shot.

 

Nathan had ridden off to the Seminole Village yesterday, to celebrate the holiday with Rain. Since March, Nathan had seen more and more of her, usually going to the village. It wouldn't surprise Ezra at all if he sent word that he and Rain were getting married and he was staying.

 

It wouldn't be long after that that Josiah would follow him.

 

The way JD had looked at Casey this morning, his eyes brimming with tears of happiness and what Ezra saw clearly as love, he didn't expect it to be long at all before they, too, were setting up house together.

 

Leaving himself and Buck to deal with Chris. Buck because he didn't know how not to be there for Chris, because he still blamed himself for the two of them being away from the house the night Sara and Adam died. As if they would have made it any better, the two of them dying as well. Ezra didn't think that Buck understood the probability of that, the hard truth that they knew now: Fowler was hired to take care of Sara and Adam, to clear the path for Ella Gaines to get Chris back. If not that night, then some other night when Chris wasn't home.

 

It was a truth that Chris understood though. And Ezra suspected that the other truth Chris understood, the one that was helping to make him into a bastard of the first order these days, was that Ella Gaines had tried to kill his friends, too. She had only failed because her men, her new killers, hadn't counted on Chris figuring out her duplicity early on, nor had they counted on Vin not being in the bunkhouse.

 

Chris understood that, that every minute she was alive, the people he cared about were at risk.

 

And that, Ezra suspected, was the real reason he had dragged himself away to his shack for the holidays, because he was expecting her to make a move and he didn't want anyone else to be in the line of fire.

 

There was only one problem with that logic, and Ezra suspected that, in the same way Buck was ignoring certain logical components that would assuage his guilt, Chris, too, was ignoring a few logical components. And that, in truth, was why Ezra was here.

 

And what he was finding, as he drew closer to the doing of it, he was reluctant to so.

 

He sat on his horse, staring down the incline toward Chris' shack. It was less a shack now; between the destruction wrought by the Nichols brothers and the destruction wrought by Ella Gaines, Chris had torn down the old, bullet-riddled shack and built a more solid, new one. It was also a little larger and studier. He had, then, been planning to stay, settling down or so it seemed.

 

While he was injured, all of them had taken turns keeping up the horses and the house. Vin, Buck, and Josiah had finished the rebuilding and work so that by the time Chris could walk out of Nathan's clinic on his own, the place was at least livable.

 

If one could call what Chris was doing 'living'. But there was smoke coming from the chimney which meant there was a fire in the stove. It also meant that Chris was up and moving, not passed out or still in bed with a hangover. That should be good. Shouldn't it?

 

As he sat debating whether he really wanted to gird the lion in his den, the door to the cabin opened and Chris stepped out on the porch. He held his pistol at his side, out of its holster, pointed down but Ezra suspected it was also cocked. Chris would take no chances.

 

"You coming in or did they send you to keep an eye on me?" he called, his voice sounding rough but clear.

 

Ezra nudged his horse forward, putting on his best smile but keeping a close eye on Chris' gun hand. "No one has sent me," he called back. "Just out giving the horse some exercise. The weather these past few days has been quite dreadful."

 

"You ain't running away, too?" Chris asked, his tone sharp.

 

Ezra frowned. "Running away? From what?"

 

Chris snorted, putting his pistol back in its holster. "Me, I reckon. Vin came by day before yesterday, said he was making for the hills for a while. Nathan came by on his way to the Seminole Village – reckon it won't be long before he'll stop coming back. Thought maybe you were off to San Francisco or St. Louis, one of those places you talk about so much. Maude's in one of them now, isn't she? Isn't this the best time of year to be playing cards?"

 

"I suspect she is," Ezra agreed, surprised that Chris knew that much about the seasons of gambling. "I'm not certain where – her holiday letter has been delayed, I suspect, by the weather. I have no idea where she is, nor any desire to travel there. No, I am, as I said, just out exercising my horse."

 

Chris studied him and Ezra thought, for a few seconds, that he saw relief in those green-gold eyes. But the next words belied the idea. "Smart thing would be to get the hell out of here, get as far away from here as you can."

 

Ezra tilted his head, taking a few seconds to get his bearings. His instinct was to take Chris' words as a demand that he leave Chris' land at this very instant. But even as his knees pressed into the sides of his horse, he recalled his own thoughts moments before, his own ideas about why Chris was keeping distance between himself and all of them. Each of them.

 

The horse started to take a step forward, then it tossed its head in irritation as Ezra pulled back on the reins. "I've been told by some that I'm not the ruler by which to measure 'smartness'," he said.

 

Chris shook his head, but when he spoke, his voice wasn't as hard as it had been. "Bullshit, Ezra. You're probably the smartest of the lot of us, in terms of self-protection. Why are you still here?"

 

Again, Ezra's first thought was that Chris meant this exact time and place. But this time he didn't even shift his weight in the saddle before he understood what Chris was really asking.

 

He answered, though, as if he assumed Chris meant this precise moment. "Because I thought, perhaps, you would share a measure of brandy in celebration of Christmas being over?" He reached back into his saddlebag and brought out one of the bottles of brandy he had ordered in for Christmas. "As I recall, you were rather pleased with it last year."

 

Chris' eyes narrowed, but after a few seconds, he sighed. "Put the horse in the corral, I'll throw another chunk of wood in the fire. Ain't got any crystal, though, you'll have to drink out of a mug. Chipped, too, I think."

 

As Chris headed into the cabin, Ezra dismounted and said, "Have no fear, I came prepared for such contingencies."

 

In his saddlebag were two crystal snifters, carefully wrapped in thick cloth to protect them.

 

An hour later, as he was finishing up the tale about JD's breakfast celebration this morning, the gift from Casey and others in the town, Ezra saw that Chris was smiling. It was a small one, more a quirk of his thin lips, but it had been so long since Ezra could recall seeing one on that thin, lined face that he thought at first he was imagining it. Until, when Ezra mentioned the pool he was starting for the wedding day, the tiny little smile grew a little larger.

 

Ezra reached over and caught up the bottle, refilling his own snifter and then, without waiting, Chris'. "To JD and Casey," Ezra said, lifting his glass in a toast. "They've grown up quite a bit this year."

 

The smile faded then, and Chris shook his head. "Too much. Ain't right – ain't fair. They shouldn't be getting shot and having to save the damned town or protect people who don't deserve it or - "

 

"Why shouldn't they?" Ezra countered, sitting back in the chair, trying to get comfortable. "Is it not their town, too? Would those things not have happened if we hadn't been here?"

 

Chris glared at him, his jaw so tight that Ezra could see the muscle twitching. So much for the ease and contentment of a few moments before. Which meant that this was now as good a time as any to bring up the question of Chris' intentional ignoring of the obvious.

 

"Before I came in, you asked me why I was still here," he said slowly. "There are a number of reasons, but the one that is probably the most logical is that there is no where else to go. If this woman wants us dead, then she will do everything in her ability to make it so. Cletus Fowler was paid to kill your family. She hired seven men to kill the six of us. You realize yourself that we are all in danger as long as she is alive. Being near you or far away from you will make little difference. In truth, I suspect it will put us more in danger. What saved us last time was that together, we are far more effective than we are alone. Individually, it will be much easier for her hired killers to hunt us down and eliminate us."

 

Chris seemed to stop breathing and even in the shadows of the cabin, Ezra saw the blood drain from his face. So, it was something Chris hadn't considered. Score one for Ezra.

 

He sipped at his brandy, giving Chris time to think about it. When Chris finally moved, lifting the brandy snifter to his lips and taking a deep drink of it, Ezra went on casually, "The danger we seem to have at the moment is that even together, we are still in some discord. Vin and Buck are competent, but neither is a natural leader. They are too independent, too willing to pull the weight themselves, too unwilling to leave it to others to do. Josiah and Nathan are too indecisive, too afraid of putting anyone at risk. For myself, well - "

 

"You're like Vin and Buck," Chris said with a sigh. "Easier to do it yourself than to try to explain. Or to take the responsibility if someone gets hurt."

 

Ezra shrugged. "I don't think that's quite what I said, but - "

 

"What are you saying?" Chris asked, his words hard but tired.

 

Ezra looked into his own glass, swirling the amber liquid slowly as he considered his answer. It wasn't his nature to be direct, but it wasn't in his nature to confront lions like Chris Larabee in their own dens. "We have all done everything we can, individually and in smaller groups, to find this woman. We have worked together to the best of our abilities to protect the town and to give you the room to see if you can find her on your own. It's been nine months, though, and so far, the best that any of us can say is that we are all still alive. That hardly seems like progressive. In fact, it sounds like what any individual one of us could say if we were on our own." He looked up, meeting Chris' gaze as directly as he knew how. "Together, we are better than we are apart. I think we have proved that repeatedly. But we are not together now because our center, our leader, is more concerned about protecting us than he is about accomplishing the goal we all share: finding this woman and ridding us all, collectively and individually, of the threat she poses. You have suffered the most at her hands, there is no question about that. But now, we are all her targets. So the best way we can get to her is to work together. And to do that, we need to work as we have in the past, as one team, not seven individual ones or other groups within that."

 

Chris held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away, into his own brandy. He drank from it, closed his eyes and swallowed slowly, then, very quietly, he said, "So that's why you're still here? Safety in numbers?"

 

Ezra sighed. "Yes, exactly, because I am afraid to go to bed at night because there is a mad woman stalking me." He shook his head and looked back at Chris. More of the same sarcasm built in his throat, rested on his tongue but as he opened his mouth for it to come out, something passed through Chris' eyes. Something sad and dark, a gaze that reminded Ezra of that day in March, when Chris lay bleeding, Nathan trying to save him, and all Chris could say was 'Sara, Sara, she killed Sara.'

 

The words that he said were not words he had ever expected to say, words he had barely said to himself in the privacy of his own head. The sound of them in the room was so strange that for a few seconds, as they hung there, like smoke from a cigar or steam from a cup of coffee, he thought someone else had said them. "I'm here because I can't leave you."

 

Chris stared at him, and for a time, Ezra feared that if he moved, Chris would shoot him.

 

Then, slowly, Chris drink once more from his brandy, finishing off what was left in the snifter. He set it carefully on the table, so carefully that Ezra thought he was being overly controlled, the sort of control a man uses when he's very drunk or very, very angry. When Chris stood up, Ezra stood up also, defensive. He still held his own snifter but he shifted it to his left hand, his right hand at his side, ready to flex to activate the arm rig.

 

Chris stood for a time, rubbing his hands against his thighs, as if wiping away sweat. All the while he stared at Ezra, his eyes flat, his expression dead. Ezra knew gunfights, knew what the protocols were, so he watched for the tells, the slight but instant twitch that would let him know Chris was going to draw.

 

When Chris moved, though, it was slow, and it wasn't his hands. He took a step forward, just one. Then one more. His hands moved and Ezra flinched, moving to one side. But they didn't go for the gun. Instead, one snagged in the front of Ezra's shirt and pulled him forward. Ezra stumbled, caught off guard, and Chris – caught him.

 

"I don't know - " Ezra started, but the words were caught in Chris' mouth as it crushed against his.

 

It had been a long time since Ezra had been kissed. It had been never since Ezra had been kissed like this. The tongue in his mouth was hot and demanding, the hand in his hair insistent, the leg pressed between his a pleasure he could barely remember.

 

Later, he wondered what happened to his brandy snifter, what happened to his gunbelt, what happened to his clothes. For now, though, all he felt was the heat of his blood as calloused hands searched out his bare skin, the taste of brandy, cigarillos, coffee, and desperation, the feel of hard bones, dry skin, and friction.

 

The sensation of knowing what was coming half a second before it did, the pleasure of someone touching him as if they knew what he wanted before he himself even knew, the sense of being understood so thoroughly that he didn't have to think – couldn't think. There was no room to sort his sense of who he was, what he needed to worry about, who he needed to worry about, from the sheer pleasure of being touched, being known, being understood.

 

Later, as the sweat cooled, their breathing slowly returned to normal, as he got a sense of his surroundings – a bed too small for two of them, bed sheets in need of a wash, windows with no curtains through which the rays of the late afternoon sun were painting the room's rough ceiling in shades of grey and deep purple - and his personal state of decadence: naked, a bare male body pressed up against his so closely that he could feel the imprint of the turgid cock against his hip, a hand cupping his own cock loosely but with intent.

 

Not a one-time thing, but the beginning of something more.

 

Maybe.

 

Hopefully.

 

It was late the next morning – early afternoon, when he gingerly settled himself in the saddle, wincing at the thought of the ride back to town. Chris stood on the porch, his lips twisted upward in what Ezra had no doubt this time was a smile.

 

"Got things to do," he said. "You can stay, though, if you want."

 

Ezra turned his head, looking away so Chris couldn't see the way those words made his breath catch. After a few seconds, he said, as if he'd actually been thinking about it, "As you mentioned before, this is the money-making time of the year, for people in my profession. Best we not give anyone a reason to wonder." He looked back to Chris, nodding his head once. "You'll be back soon, though, tomorrow?"

 

Chris shrugged. "By the end of the week. Got some thinking to do. I've been planning on handling this alone, to keep you and the others out of it. If that ain't gonna happen - "

 

"It's not," Ezra cut in sharply.

 

"If that ain't gonna happen," Chris repeated with a sigh, "then I need to figure out how to make it work for the best. Don't want to lose you – or any of the others."

 

Ezra tilted his head forward in a slight bow. "Then think long and hard. I will do the same. Between us, we can come up with a plan. One all seven of us can survive."

 

Chris smiled, another twist of his lips, but this time, it was clear. "Yeah, I reckon we can."

 

Ezra touched the brim of his hat and turned his horse away. Soon, he thought, as he guided the horse back to the rough road that led back into town. Soon it would be a new year, and soon, it would be the way it was supposed to be. Though he needed to order in two more crystal snifters to replace the ones that would now stay in Chris' cabin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
